


at words poetic, i'm so pathetic

by d_v_whelan



Series: the bitch of living [1]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Gen, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17650943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_v_whelan/pseuds/d_v_whelan
Summary: hanschen flirts with ernst, hanschen kisses ernst, ernst is a gay mess. oh, and the boys love embarrassing ernst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from 'you're the top' from anything goes.

It seemed to Ernst that Hanschen was good at everything. He got the lead role in the play every year, he was one of the best speakers the debate team had ever seen, he sang like an angel in the church choir, his ass was the best in school bar none; Ernst could go on for hours, really. The best part of it all was that Hanschen was actually _friends_ with him.

Their friendship started in freshman year—well, they'd always been acquaintances because of church, but never a talking-outside-of-that sort of friendship—when Hanschen got the role of Romeo for their school's production of _Romeo and Juliet_. Ernst, of course, just painted the sets, but for some reason Hanschen gravitated towards him. Maybe it was because Ernst was the only other person there who didn't like to scream showtunes and be all-around annoying.

Evidently Hanschen liked Ernst enough to help him with his schoolwork nearly every week for the past year. Right then they were sitting on Hanschen's bed, _The Iliad_ cracked open between them. Hanschen knew exactly what everything meant and just why it meant that, but Ernst could barely get through two lines without getting confused.

"He's driven primarily for glory. Just write that down and you're finished." Hanschen tapped his pen against Ernst's notebook, and Ernst scribbled it down frivolously. Truly, his mind was elsewhere.

Hanschen closed the book and slid just a few inches closer to Ernst, and Ernst looked at him from the side of his eye, trying not to snap his pencil in half from anxiety.

"Can I ask you something, Ernst?" Hanschen said, tossing his pen on his desk nearby.

Ernst nodded, setting his pencil aside but keeping his notebook open so he could pretend to be totally engrossed with it if needed. "Um, sure."

"Do you ever think about the future?"

 _Yes, all the time, oh dear._ "What do you mean?"

"Like, what would you like to do someday? I don't think we've ever actually talked about that." Hanschen leaned on his elbow, looking up at Ernst with his head tilted.

"Oh, well… I don't know. I'd like to be an artist, but maybe I'll end up as a pastor like my father. Maybe I can do both. I get worried thinking about the future, usually. Like, thinking about college is so stressful, especially since I already suck at school, and…" Ernst trailed off, looking over at Hanschen, who was staring at him with an amused smile. Ernst laughed nervously. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I like when you ramble, you know. That's a romantic vision."

Ernst blushed and looked back down at his notebook, playing with the corners of the pages. "Thanks… But what about you? Um, what do you wanna do? Well, I know you want to be an actor, and like, I'm sure you will be, but besides that, I guess…" His voice was hardly more than a meek mumble.

"I don't worry about the future as much as you do. I think it's better to live in the moment and let the system work for me." He thought for a moment then continued, leaning forward and sitting at eye level with Ernst once again, "Here, just listen for a second. Imagine the future as a bucket of whole milk."

Ernst knew that Hanschen loved his dramatic metaphors and that he truly was Shakespearean at heart, but he had no idea where this was going. He cocked his head, waiting for him to continue all the while nervously ripping the frills from his notebook paper.

"Some people spend their time churning it, trying to turn it into butter. You know? Others spill the milk and cry all night. But me, well… I'm like a pussycat." He pressed a hand against Ernst's shoulder, prompting him to look at his face. "I just skim off the cream." Never breaking eye contact, Hanschen brought his forefinger and middle finger to his tongue and closed his mouth on them, dragging them slowly through his lips with a satisfying _pop_.

Ernst thought he might just die in that room. _Here lies in God Ernst Robel: born June 28, 2000, died April 24th, 2017._ His face was red and he felt heat spreading everywhere, and it was all he had in him not to stand up and sprint from the house at that very moment.

"W-w—" Ernst stuttered, blinking to break eye contact for even a moment at a time, and Hanschen was still just sitting there smirking at him. "Skim off the cream?" He finally squeaked out, nervously leaning away from Hanschen who had somehow gotten even closer.

Hanschen's gaze flickered from Ernst's eyes to his lips and back again several times. "Right."

_He's looking at my mouth. Why is he looking at my mouth? Do I have something in my teeth? Does my breath smell bad? Please, Lord, why did he suck his fingers?_

"Hanschen, what—" Ernst started, then noticed Hanschen ducking his head. "You're laughing! What is it?" He was growing more anxious by the second. Surely Hanschen was making fun of him now. _Oh, gosh, did he find out that I like him?_

Hanschen stopped laughing and leaned forward, taking Ernst's hand in his own. He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, as if to ask Ernst if what he was going to do next was alright, and although Ernst couldn't fathom the situation he was in, he gave him a small nod. Hanschen brought his other hand up to Ernst's neck and pulled him into a kiss that only lasted a moment.

_Oh, gosh, I guess he did._

"Oh God!" was all Ernst could say, his eyes widened in shock, having never shut to begin with. Hanschen always smelled fresh, like expensive soap and mint, but _tasting_ it was a different experience entirely.

Hanschen kept Ernst's hand in his own. He replied, his voice almost a purr, "Mmm, I know. Someday when you're an artist or a pastor and still just Ernst you can look back, and this will seem unbelievably beautiful."

Ernst squeezed his hand absentmindedly. "And...in the meantime?" His breathing hitched as Hanschen softly placed his other hand on his cheek. His hands were warm and Ernst didn't want to let them go.

"Why not?"

Hanschen kissed him again, invigorated by the verbal confirmation that what he'd done the first time was good. Ernst had never kissed anyone before, and he was unsure what exactly he was supposed to be doing; his hands still sat one awkwardly in his lap, the other gripping Hanschen's. He thought too soon, however, because Hanschen let go of that hand and moved it to his waist, the other making its way back to Ernst's neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Ernst mimicked him, putting his left hand on the back of Hanschen's neck and setting the other one on his thigh. The reality of the situation was finally setting in. _Oh, my God. He's kissing me right now. Ohmigod is that his TONGUE?!_

Ernst squirmed, trying not to ruin the moment. Not only was he immensely ticklish and Hanschen was touching his side, but he also was tasting someone else's mouth and he couldn't believe this was actually his first ever kiss. _Ohmigosh did he just BITE MY LIP?!_ Ernst's eyes opened in shock and he accidentally pulled Hanschen's hair that he'd been unknowingly grasping.

Hanschen groaned— _was that a moan?_ —and pulled away. "Are you okay?"

Ernst's hand was still tangled in Hanschen's hair. It was so soft, and he just didn't want to let go of him yet. "Yes! I am! I just...I thought...I mean, I never thought...I didn't think this would ever happen."

Hanschen faltered, the confidence that he always so proudly wore vanishing for a split second. He turned his head, forcing Ernst to drop his hand. "So then are you sorry we—"

"No!" Ernst fumbled, trying to lean back into Hanschen but slipping off the bed instead, the notebook he was still holding in his lap falling to the ground. Hanschen caught his hand and pulled him back up. "I love you, Hanschen! I-I do. I've never loved anyone but I—" Hanschen tugged his hand harder until Ernst was practically sitting in his lap and kissed him once again.

"And so you should," he mumbled into Ernst's lips. Ernst didn't have time to wonder why he didn't say he loved him back because now he was too engrossed in how Hanschen's lips tasted, and how soft his hair was between his fingers, and how good he smelled, and how low his hand was going…

"Um!" Ernst pulled away, smiling awkwardly at Hanschen, his laughter a nervous stream of him filling the time while trying to think of what to say next. "I need to go home. Um, yeah." He stood from the bed while Hanschen just looked at him, amused.

"Would you like me to drive you?" He asked, leaning back on his elbow, his legs crossed on the bed. The back of his hair was still ruffled from where Ernst had been running his fingers through it, and it made Ernst blush just to remember what they'd just been doing.

"No! My mom is coming. Don't worry. But uh, thank you for the offer. See you at school tomorrow. Bye, Hanschen." _I love you still, by the way. Oh, Lord, I can't believe I told him I loved him._

"Bye, Ernst. Let me know when you'd like our next study session to be." When Ernst looked over, he was smirking, and Ernst gave him a mousy smile as he backed out of the room, picking his backpack up off the floor as he went.

He prayed that Hanschen kept his eyes on his face and not any lower down, because the recognition in Hanschen's eyes about what he had caused would probably make Ernst faint.

He bumped into the doorframe. "Um, bye!" He said once more, finally disappearing around the corner and down the stairs.

Ernst inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to steady his nerves and make it out the door without making any of the high-pitched noises that he might normally make alone in his bedroom when something shocking happened. Nothing, though, had ever come close to the feelings he had right then, a mixture of giddiness and apprehension and—well, horniness.

He'd had a crush on Hanschen for two years, ever since those first days during freshman year play rehearsal. It had turned into love sometime in sophomore year when Ernst actually realized he was gay, realizing those feelings he had about Hanschen all the time were much more than just friendly. His mind was racing with thousands of thoughts. _How long has Hanschen wanted to do that? Why did he do that? Why does he like me? Does he actually even like me? Why am I sweating so much?_

"Leaving already, Ernst?" Mrs. Rilow was sitting on the couch near the door with Hanschen's cat Aphrodite in her lap.

"Yes! We finished early. Goodnight, Mrs. Rilow." He smiled at her, afraid that somehow she knew he was just making out with her son upstairs and could read his mind.

"Goodnight, Ernst. Tell your mother I said hello."

"Of course. Bye!" He pulled his shoes on as quickly as possible and was out the door soon after. He breathed a sigh of relief once it was shut behind him, feeling like he just beat a particularly hard level of a video game.

Ernst pulled out his phone, opening the boys' Discord group chat and quickly keysmashing a message, typing as he walked off their porch and down the road.

 **the power of god and anime** [Ernst]: _HHHFGHDGH HANSHCEN JHHGH_  
**pope 2: now with pubes** [Melchior]: _what_  
**veni vidi vegeta** [Otto]: _did hanschen kill you_  
**the power of god and anime** : _I HAVE TO TELL YOU GUYSD SOMETHING TOMORRW_  
**georg looks like chicken little** [Moritz]: _what is it..!!!!!_

His phone buzzed with more notifications, but at that moment he was just extremely focused on calling his mom to get her to pick him up. His house was about a twenty minute drive, so he walked as far as Melchior's house and sat on the porch, hoping that no one in the Gabor household would see him.

"Um, Mama?" He said when she picked up the phone. "Can you come get me? We finished early."

"Sure, honey. I'll be there soon."

They exchanged a few more words and then hung up. Ernst realized that he could have just asked Melchior to take him home, but he didn't want to have to face any of his friends just yet; he'd surely ask him what happened and Melchior was not one to give up easily.

The following twenty minutes were torture. Ernst wanted to run back to Hanschen and apologize for being an idiot, and tell him he loved him again, and kiss him again, and run his fingers through his hair again. He wanted Hanschen to hold his hand and touch his face and his back and his chest; and maybe other places, eventually, but just the idea of that made Ernst blush alone in the dusk on Melchior's porch.

Soon enough his mother arrived, and Ernst was silent the entire car ride home, claiming his exhaustion. Yes, he was exhausted, and he had many things he needed to take care of once he got back to the comfort of his own bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day at school, Ernst made a point to avoid Hanschen at every instance possible. They had no classes together, which Ernst was suddenly very grateful for, and he knew Hanschen's daily routine so well that he knew exactly how to avoid him in the hallways.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Hanschen; no, he desperately wanted to see Hanschen and to talk to him and to spend time with him and to _kiss him_ , but the anxiety surrounding the situation was far too great.

Ernst didn't really have a plan. He just needed time to decide what he was going to do next. A lot of time.

Hanschen had texted him later that night, asking him simply if he was alright. Ernst was too busy removing the blue from his mind to answer him, but later he'd given him a quick 'of course!' as reassurance. Then he threw his phone under his bed and fell asleep.

He almost could have thought the previous night's events were a dream until he noticed that his English notebook was missing. _Of course._ That meant their entire study session was for nought, since he needed those _Iliad_ notes the very next morning in 4th period English. _Maybe I can use Wendla's_ , he thought to himself on the car ride there, but he barely knew what was going on in that class either way.

Ernst's first three classes were mostly spent dodging questions from his friends, promising them he'd tell them all what happened during lunch. If he explained it four separate times to each of his friends he just might die, and he couldn't imagine talking about it in whispers during class. It was something that had to be announced and drowned out by the shouting of freshman in the cafeteria.

Then came English, and Ernst was almost at ease. He was there a few minutes early, as usual, chatting with Wendla, his only friend in that class and the one who always helped him when the teacher called on him out of the blue.

Then Hanschen walked in, blue spiral notebook in hand, the swirly cursive on the front visible from Ernst's seat all the way in the back of class: _Ernst Robel_.

"Ernst," Hanschen called from across the classroom, most of the students there stopping midway in their conversations to watch what was going on, "you left this at my house last night."

Ernst jumped up out of his seat to meet Hanschen in the middle of the classroom, blushing profusely but trying to act nonchalant. He was failing miserably; he studied with Hanschen every week, sometimes multiple nights, but only just now was he completely embarrassed that people were hearing about it. Maybe it was because Hanschen didn't explicitly say it was because they were studying; maybe it was because all Ernst could think of when he looked at Hanschen was how his lips had tasted and how his hair had felt and how his clothes had smelled.

"Thank you!" He said, grabbing the notebook from him.

Hanschen's mouth twitched, and Ernst recognized that face clearly; he was trying not to smirk. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything. Good morning." He smiled at him and left the classroom, not once even glancing at the other people there. _God, how does he manage to look better in that uniform than everyone else at this school?_

Ernst stood, knees locked, in the middle of the room for a second more before he realized everyone was staring at him. He power walked back to his seat beside Wendla, slamming his notebook on his desk and looking down at it, obviously immensely intrigued.

"What was that about?" Wendla whispered, nudging his leg with her foot. "Why are you being so weird?"

Ernst looked over at her, trying very hard not to sigh loudly. Wendla had that sort of personality where you felt like you could tell her anything, because she always had some anecdote to go along with it and could alleviate your anxiety by making it about herself. The two had been going to the same Sunday school classes since they could talk; they were practically siblings. It only made sense that he told her about the kiss; but really, Ernst just needed to tell _somebody_. "Just...ugh. Hanschen kissed me last night."

Wendla's jaw dropped. "No way!" She said, still whispering, but their peers could undoubtedly hear them. Ernst pretended there was no one else there. "Out of nowhere? What did he say?"

"It was...a lot. He said something about like, milk, then he sucked on his fingers right in my face!" Wendla grinned widely, trying to stifle a laugh. Ernst shook his head, exasperated as he went on, "Then he just...kissed me. And I'm an idiot and I told him that I'm in love with him."

"You are, though."

"I am! But he didn't say it back!"

Wendla rested her chin in her hand, looking at Ernst with her big, brown eyes. "Well, that's probably because you said it out of nowhere. He definitely likes you, though. You can tell. Like, even before you just told me he kissed you, I mean."

"What? How come you never told me that before?"

"Because, dork, then you'd get all anxious around him. I mean, he's always wanting to hang out with you. And he doesn't even like your friends."

That was very true. Hanschen was friends with Melchior, but he probably didn't even know Otto and Georg's names, and as for Moritz, well; he would be on the very long list of students at Knochenbruch Catholic Academy that had been mean to Moritz at one point or another. He mostly just ignored him, though.

"What am I supposed to do now, then?"

"Um, ask him on a date!" Wendla said as if it was obvious, her tone slowly rising above a whisper.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I can't do that."

"Why not? Coward."

"I'm not a coward, shush!" He stopped. "Well, I guess I am a coward. I just don't wanna look stupid."

"There is no way you could look stupid. He _kissed_ you! He obviously likes you! Ooh, did he use tongue? How long was the kiss?"

Ernst blushed again, looking away. "Ugh, class is about to start. It was three kisses, technically. I'll tell you more later. Let's just pay attention."

Wendla gasped, muttering something about  _three kisses_ , but Ernst turned his full attention to the teacher. Lunch was next period and he'd have to relay it all to the boys again anyway.

English class passed as quickly as his other classes had, with Ernst retaining exactly zero percent of the information and his mind mostly wandering back to the night before. When he stood up to leave, Wendla grabbed his shoulder.

"I have to go meet up with the girls, but you better text me about what happened later! Or else." She pressed her finger into Ernst's chest, making an exaggerated 'threatening' face. Ernst couldn't help but laugh; Wendla couldn't be threatening if she actually tried. "See you later!"

"Okay, I will, jeez. See you." He felt a little less anxious having told someone at least part of it.

When he reached the cafeteria, Ernst took his time walking to their table, grasping the sides of his lunch tray so hard that his knuckles were white. He could see his friends talking and laughing and wished he had just told them what happened last night when they asked him in the group chat. Ernst also wished they were going out to eat that day, so he could tell them in a car or a Wendy's instead, but Otto didn't like to drive every day and Melchior's mother limited him to two lunch outings per week.

When he finally sat down, the boys were upon him.

"Well, what happened?" Melchior said, pointing a fork at him menacingly.

"Hanschen kissed me," Ernst blurted, tired of dragging it on. The boys gasped collectively then started talking over one another with reckless abandon.

"Did he—"

"H—"

"W—"

"Why—"

" _Shut up!"_  Melchior shouted, silencing the incessant stream of interruptions and the bombardment of questions that Ernst couldn't hear because they were drowned out by each other.

"Okay, okay, let me just finish!" Ernst exclaimed, overwhelmed by the boys as always. "Okay, he said some weird thing about milk, then he started sucking on his fingers, then he kissed me. Then, um, we kissed again, then again. Then I went home."

"You sure you just kissed?" Georg asked, elbowing him while suggestively raising his eyebrows.

"Sucked his fingers?" Moritz said, his face twisted in what looked like disgust.

"What kind of kiss?" Melchior asked, and Ernst had to decide which comment to address first considering they said them all at the same time. Otto surely would have had something to say if his mouth wasn't full of salami.

Ernst didn't get to decide, however, because then Melchior held a hand up to silence everyone else and continued, "Okay, wait. You say you kissed. Was it like," he made a chaste kissing sound against his hand, "or like this?" He made obscene, sloppy noises as he licked his palm, his eyes rolling back dramatically.

Moritz grimaced, muttering 'ew' under his breath, pretending to be very focused on his food.

Ernst cleared his throat, trying to keep himself from blushing. "Well, I don't—"

"They totally made out," Otto interjected, and Ernst couldn't prevent the redness on his face then.

Melchior nodded matter-of-factly. "Oh, totally. I know Hanschen. No way he wouldn't use tongue."

"Then why did you ask?" Ernst said meekly, then he noticed someone in the distance behind Melchior. _God, it's Hanschen. Of course it's Hanschen. Why couldn't he have gone out today?_ Ernst tried to be discreet and said in a low voice, "Don't look now, but he's right behind you guys over there."

Immediately, Melchior and Otto whipped around, scanning the crowd. Moritz turned his head slightly, the only one actually trying to be discreet; still, though, he didn't really want to think about Ernst and Hanschen kissing anyway.

"I don't see him," Otto said, craning his neck, and Georg tapped him to get his attention.

"Right there," Georg said once Otto was looking, then he extended his arm and pointed directly at Hanschen, who was looking right at them.

"Oh, my God," Ernst muttered, trying to look at literally _anything_ other than him.

Hanschen stared at the group, knowing that of course they were talking about him, who wouldn't be? He brought his finger up and set it against his lips melodramatically, looking right at Ernst, who turned and made eye contact with him at just the right moment.

Ernst's eyes widened and he pushed his tray forward, setting his head on the table. "I hate you guys," he said, his voice muffled. Melchior laughed loudly, both at Hanschen's display and Ernst's reaction.

"You love us, actually," Melchior said, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

Otto grabbed Ernst's arm, which hung limply at his side, and held it up in the air. The boys, even Moritz, took turns high-fiving it. That made the second person in their group of friends who had ever actually kissed anyone.

"Ugh, speaking of love...I kind of also told him that I loved him," Ernst mumbled.

"Well, we know you are. You talk about him all the time," Moritz said, and Georg snickered.

"Well, whatever. I just don't know what to do now."

"Suck his dick," Otto said, and Melchior punched him in the shoulder.

"I can talk to him, if you want," Melchior suggested, ignoring Otto flipping him off beside him. "You guys should like, go somewhere. Not as friends."

Ernst lifted his head and shook it wildly. "No! Please, don't. I can handle it. Um, I just need, uh, time. Gonna wait the school year out, you know?" He laughed nervously, trying to convince them that he actually had ideas.

"I think you're stalling, and I _know_ stalling," Moritz said, which surprised Ernst. Moritz didn't typically rebuke things that easily.

Ernst set his head back down, staring at the cold, faux-granite cafeteria tabletop. "Yeah, you're probably right," was all he said in response, his gentle voice barely carrying. He ignored anything else the boys were saying and thought about what he would text Wendla, and Martha, and just what, exactly, he was going to do about Hanschen. If he'd been looking, he would have seen Hanschen still looking right at him.

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to read the next fic in the series for a follow-up! + feel free to follow me @hanschhen on tumblr!


End file.
